


Five Times Stiles calls the sheriff 'daddy' in private and one time he does so in public

by mimithereader



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Fluffy, Gen, M/M, Sciles, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski Feels, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles/Scott - Freeform, Stilinski Family Feels, the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:22:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimithereader/pseuds/mimithereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles calls the sheriff 'daddy' five times because their relationship is the cutest thing ever. Stiles and Scott get together. They are also the cutest thing ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Stiles calls the sheriff 'daddy' in private and one time he does so in public

**1**

  
“Hey, thought you had plans with Scott tonight, kid,” John asks when he looks over the back of the couch and sees Stiles sprawled on the floor in front of the television.

  
“So did I,” Stiles mumbles.

  
John pauses in taking off his uniform jacket and frowns. He shrugs his jacket back on and walks further into the room. He snatches the remote off the coffee table and hits the TV off.

  
“Hey!” Stiles squawks.

  
“Come on,” John says firmly, kicking lightly at his son’s foot.

  
“…Where are we going?” Stiles asks skeptically, eyeing him carefully.

  
“Go get your shoes,” John tells him in lieu of an actual answer.

  
Stiles accepts the offered hand to help him up and mutters something that sounds a lot like _I can never just relax and watch TV_ as he heads toward the stairs, but John notices the excited spring in his step.  
Stiles comes rushing back down the stairs not even a full minute later, all enthusiastic energy and clumsy steps and John can’t help but grin. Stiles has always been thrilled by surprises or impromptu outings, he knows this.

  
He grabs an extra sweater of his off the coat rack for Stiles to use and ushers his son out the front door and into the police cruiser.

  
It’s one minute and forty-seven seconds later that Stiles asks where they are going, John counted. It’s a new record which speaks volumes to John about how upset Stiles must be. His average is about fifty seconds.

  
“Just relax,” John tells him, smirking at the exasperated sigh he gets in response followed by the soft thud of Stiles leaning his forehead against the passenger side window.

  
It takes about a half hour to reach the shooting range and John worriedly notes that Stiles was silent the rest of the way.

  
John watches his son shoot for an hour and a half, offering occasional helpful pointers or praise. By the time they walk back to the car, Stiles is talking again, rambling animatedly about chemistry and economics and some Netflix documentary all the way back to town.

  
It’s not until they pull into a drive-thru to get a couple of milkshakes that Stiles brings Scott up.

  
“I’m happy for him, you know, with Allison and everything, it’s just…” Stiles says eventually, trailing off and John picks up on the underlying sense of jealousy.

  
“I know you’re upset, kiddo,” John says as they drive around the preserve aimlessly, sipping on their shakes. “But he’s gonna come around.”

  
“Yeah,” Stiles agrees half-heartedly.

  
“If he’s put up with you this long…” John says teasingly.

  
“Hey!” Stiles asserts with false indignation, gently shoving at his dad’s arm.

  
They pull up to a spot that overlooks the town and Stiles unbuckles himself to scoot over on the seat and lean his head against his dad’s shoulder.

  
“Thanks, daddy,” he says around the straw he is currently chewing.

 

**2**

  
“Hey, dad?”

  
“Yeah, bud?” John asks, looking away from the television screen to see Stiles standing cautiously at the edge of the living room.

  
John doesn’t blame him for his reluctance; it’s been tense around the house since Stiles came home bruised and bloodied with some bullshit excuse about the other team roughing him up.

  
“Did, uh, did Scott…did he help look for me?”

  
Despite his years of police experience that have required a strong talent for masking emotions and a stellar poker face, John finds it exceptionally difficult to keep the guilt out of his expression when he tells Stiles that he isn’t sure. He hates lying to his son, he does, but he hates seeing disappointment flash in his boy’s beautiful doe eyes even more. So he doesn’t tell Stiles that Scott wasn’t any help, that he had merely sent the boy a text when Stiles had shown up.

  
“Oh, okay,” Stiles responds with a forced nonchalance.

  
“Stiles-”

  
“No, it’s not – it isn’t a big deal. Really,” Stiles says in a way that makes John think he’s actually trying to convince himself of that.

  
He doesn’t mention it, though. Stiles didn’t call him on his bluff so he returns the favor, watching as his son heads back upstairs with a distinguishable slump to his shoulders. He stays on the couch for a few more minutes, listens as Stiles tinkers around in his bathroom as he gets ready for bed, and thinks about why Scott hadn’t been more eager to help. He knows Scott loves his son, that much is obvious, which makes the situation all the more curious. It was a crazy night, though. John can forgive a teenager for being panicked and preoccupied, though he isn’t happy about his son being the one to pay the price. He knows how much worse it hurts when it’s someone you love that disappoints you.

  
He waits until the sink has been turned off and he thinks his son’s in bed before he goes upstairs to check on him. Stiles is just climbing into bed when he calls for John to come in.

  
“You alright?” John asks as he pulls the blanket up over Stiles.

  
“ ‘m fine,” Stiles mumbles.

  
“I love you, kiddo,” John tells him leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

  
“Love you too, daddy.”

 

**3**

  
Stiles has never been more happy to be home than he is right now. He never wants to stay at another motel for as long as he lives, the Glen Capri has officially ruined that for him.

  
He can’t stop thinking about everything, though.

  
He keeps thinking about seeing Scott dripping wet, standing in that puddle in the middle of the parking lot.

  
He keeps thinking about the too-bright glow of the flame on the end of the road flare.

  
He can still smell the gasoline.

  
He can still hear Scott’s tear-filled voice, telling him they were nothing, no one.

  
He had told Scott then that Scott wasn’t no one, Scott couldn’t be no one because he was Stiles’s whole world.

  
He starts to think that, maybe, “brothers” doesn’t quite cover what he feels.

  
He’s itching to take a shower, to scrub the horrible trip from his skin, but his dad calls out to him, tells him that dinner’s ready.

  
“Everything alright, son?” his dad asks halfway through dinner, watching Stiles carefully from across the kitchen table.

  
“Yeah,” Stiles tells him after a moment’s hesitation.

  
“Alright,” his dad agrees, clearly not believing it, but willing to let it slide.

  
“You know what – no. Everything’s not alright,” Stiles says before he can stop himself. His dad quirks an eyebrow at him and Stiles knows an explanation is now required so he goes with the lesser of two evils.

“What if…I’m not totally straight?” he asks slowly, nervously, as he carefully watches his dad for a response.

  
His dad looks at him but merely shrugs. “Then you’re not totally straight,” he says like his son’s sexuality is the simplest thing in the world.

  
“…That’s it?” Stiles asks incredulously, almost skeptical to accept his dad’s lack of a reaction.

  
“Stiles. You know I love you and I’m going to support you no matter what,” John says firmly.

  
Stiles nods, soaking in the shock of just how awesome his father is.

  
“I want you happy, son.”

  
Stiles smiles at that.

  
“I know, daddy.”

 

**4**

  
“No. Nonono, you don’t understand! I _need_ you to do this!” Stiles says urgently.

  
“Stiles, I-” John tries, but his son cuts him off abruptly.

  
“I hurt him! I can’t – it’s not – it’s _Scott!_ "

  
“But, Stiles, I can’t-”

  
“No! I can’t hurt him again. Not Scott. He’s - ”

  
John hears the desperation in his son’s voice. He’s listened to Stiles haphazardly explain the whole nogitsune situation to him. He’s listened to Stiles recount painfully how he’d stabbed Scott, how he couldn’t stop it. John believes him, but this is his child. Even knowing about the supernatural crap going on, he struggles to face the reality that there are situations being a protective father won’t help. There are things he cannot save his own son from. Eichen House is the last thing he wants for Stiles, it reminds him too much of his late wife. He wants to say no. He wants to seal the window shut, barricade the door, and lock Stiles in his bedroom until the danger passes.

  
He won’t, though.

  
He can’t.

  
Not when his son is pleading with him so desperately.

  
“It’s _Scott_ ,” he says again, as if the name alone holds enough weight to excuse every possible action. “I can’t, daddy, I _can’t_.”

 

**5**

  
It’s been six months. Six months full of tears. Six months full of nightmares. Six months full of self-loathing. Six months since the nogitsune came and went, taking Stiles’s light with it.

  
The smile on his son’s face is so out of place that John has to do a double take when Stiles walks in the door.

  
“What are you smiling about?” John asks, unable to help himself.

  
“Oh, um, nothing,” Stiles responds and he tries to suppress his grin but the attempt is in vain and John can’t help but smile too.

  
“That’s not a ‘nothing’ smile,” he says teasingly.

  
“Just a good day,” Stiles tells him easily.

  
“Yeah? What’s good about it?”

  
“Can I not just be happy?” Stiles asks and John would worry he’s crossed some sort of line, but the question is said lightly and Stiles’s grin only gets wider.

  
“Can you not just tell me why you’re happy?” John retorts mockingly.

  
Stiles shakes his head, tells him, “a little mystery is good for the soul.”

  
John rolls his eyes, but watches happily as his son wanders off to his bedroom.

  
~*~*~*~

  
Later that evening Stiles comes back downstairs and asks if he can tag along while his dad’s on patrol. It’s not something they’ve done recently, definitely not since the nogitsune and only rarely after all this werewolf stuff started. John tells him of course and tries to tame his own eagerness at getting his son back. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he knows this is going to be a long road and Stiles won’t just come back to him in a day.

  
They’ve been patrolling the town for nearly three hours, enjoying a companionable silence, when Stiles shatters it abruptly as always.

  
“Scott kissed me,” he blurts out.

  
“Yeah?” John asks, eyeing his son and trying his damndest to keep the grin off his face.

  
“Yeah,” Stiles whispers, staring out the window and unable to stop smiling. “I think I really like him, daddy.”

 

**\+ 1**

  
“And to my daddy,” Stiles says to the yard full of pack and family and friends, “for being the best man I’ve ever known.”

  
Stiles raises his glass towards his father, smiling brightly, and John returns the gesture, his smile just as wide despite the tears brimming in his eyes. Scott comes up behind Stiles and steals the mic.

  
“Time for the father son dance,” he announces, shooting a happy glance at John as he pushes Stiles forward.

  
John recognizes the opening notes to the song he danced with his wife to at their wedding all those years ago. He grabs his son’s hand and pulls him close.

  
“I’m happy for you, kid,” he tells Stiles, trying valiantly not to choke on his tears.

  
Stiles’s eyes are just as wet as his as they continue to dance together, moving slowly, and Stiles rests his head against his father’s shoulder. John can feel his son’s smile and he’s so glad that these rough years have still led to this moment. When the song ends, Scott approaches them and asks to cut in.

  
John smiles and kisses Stiles’s temple, whispering to him, “your mother would be so proud of you.”

  
Stiles smiles at him and he watches as his son’s new husband leads him away. He watches as Scott’s hands, so strong and so capable of destruction, land gently on his son’s waist, holding him close. He watches as his son’s hands, always fidgeting and constantly in motion, still on Scott’s shoulders, gripping the fabric tightly.

  
It was indeed a long road, John was right about that, but Stiles came back to him and he brought Scott along. Though he’s always felt it, John is now officially the father of two amazing boys.


End file.
